


Beautiful Pain

by agentfatale



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I Made Myself Cry, Not A Fix-It, Precognition, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-22 21:06:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23867071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentfatale/pseuds/agentfatale
Summary: You can see the future as soon as the universe wills it. If you can predict the future, can you also change it?
Relationships: Tony Stark/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Beautiful Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I wrote this for @sherrybaby14 's Fall Into You Challenge on tumblr and wanted to share here. Based very loosely after a song of the same name. The line that inspired me was “sadly, time doesn’t wait” or “시간은 슬프게 기다리질 않네요.” Religion is also mentioned in terms of salvation and is not meant to offend anyone, but it might since it’s not accurate. 
> 
> The prompt/quote was "I don’t deserve to be happy. Not after what I’ve done." I wrote and rewrote this a dozen times and cried about it just as many times.
> 
> Please enjoy!

You had never believed in love until you met Tony “Bring You Breakfast In Bed” Stark. 

To you, rom-coms were a product of the culture industry to further groom society’s idea that love was the skeleton key to everything. Romeo and Juliet were idiot kids who probably would have been able to solve their problems by talking to adults, and a dozen roses had nothing on you compared to the 20 bucks you could’ve gotten instead.

Until Tony “Literally Sweep You Off of Your Feet When You’re Drinking Coffee” Stark came along.

You’d seen the bumbling goofball coming your way months before you were assigned to the team -- your precognition was a force to be reckoned with, but so was Tony “Slow Kisses and Sweet Nothings in Your Ear” Stark.

“He’s got a thing for you, _milaya_ ,” Natasha commented after the first time Tony brought you a rose. 

It hadn’t been a particularly special day, but to Tony “Everything is Special With You” Stark, everyday was a treasure.

“Tony’s just a flirt,” you’d replied, not thinking much of it and actually believing your spoken words. “It’s just Tony.”

You thumbed over the delicate petals of the rose before running your hand down to its thorns. 

“‘It’s just Tony,’” Clint chuckled, unconvinced. “We’ll see how that goes.”

You glared at Clint playfully as he waggled his eyebrows at you. “We’ll see!”

But you’d already seen. 

You hadn’t really considered the idea of dating him. Now it was just a matter of whether you’d give in or not. 

Every time Tony made the decision to make a pass at you, the vision would linger in your head. Dreamy, misty images of bravado only seen in those damn rom-coms when everything’s staged down to the second. They would act themselves out in your head, and instead of perfectly powdered, petal-lipped actresses with glistening eyes, _you_ were the one to receive the roses. Every. Single. Time.

Tony was an “acts of service” kind of guy.

If you’d had any trace of confusion or concern during briefs before assignments, Tony would make an effort to talk to you afterwards. Bring you a coffee and squeeze your shoulder.

“We got this, Y/N,” Tony would murmur, “we couldn’t do it without you.”

Tony liked to write your mission reports for you when you would come home from solo assignments. He’d watch as you dragged yourself into your room and fell asleep even before your head hit the pillow, then silently pull up the mission file to start writing. 

You knew he’d be writing them for you, and so did he.

* * *

Tony knew you weren’t a romantic the day he met you. 

Eyes sharp, steel-set with a career full of bloodshed in contrast to the angelic, almost ingenue features of the rest of your face. You’d had a reputation in the intelligence community as something of a succubus. Relentless and audacious with a vicious history, enhanced with the ability to see into the future and stop it from happening.

“How’s it going? Tony Stark,” he’d said, hand reaching out.

You hadn’t responded right away, and instead, took a good look at the infamous Tony “Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist” Stark everyone everywhere had made a fuss about. 

There was nothing particularly special about him, except maybe the funky facial hair he had going for him. Perhaps a little glint of something wicked in his stare, and maybe the perpetual boyishness. The arrogance helped pull everything together, and if it hadn’t been for the confidence, you wouldn’t have even given him a second glance.

“Y/N,” you’d murmured, grasping his hand.

Tony knew you weren’t a romantic, and the whole “I can see the future” thing wasn’t helping either.

You’d seen too much to believe that things could result in happy endings. It always ended with death -- and you had the kill count to prove it.

You weren’t god. 

Limpid visions of anguish swam in your eyes each day, overwhelmed you with the burden of a thousand voices begging for mercy.

Your previous handlers had called it a god complex. S.H.I.E.L.D. called it PTSD.

“You ready to save the world?” Tony had jested, the fiendish taste of his grin lingering in your mouth. 

There was a part of you that wanted to save them all -- that felt obligated to them all, and perhaps that’s the only thing that they had noticed. A fervid need to stop the future before they were attained.

“The universe, hopefully,” you’d quipped, savoring the taste. “The world’s too small for the Avengers.”

They all knew that you weren’t god, yet uneasy lied the head that wore the crown.

* * *

Tony “MIT Graduate With More Degrees Than You” Stark could fix anything. 

But Tony sucked at one thing: cooking. 

Tony never cooked because he was god-awful at cooking, and no one needed to see Tony “Literal Genius” Stark fail at something. 

So when he started bringing you burnt omelettes with sheepish grins and nervous winks, you were surprised. Not surprised because it was unexpected -- you’d seen it coming, after all -- but because he decided he would continue to do so. 

“Y/N,” Tony had called one day, “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you replied, craning your neck to watch him come down the hall. 

Tony marched into your room with a less-burnt-than-usual omelette and a piping hot cup of coffee that you hadn’t asked for but allowed anyways. He grinned at you, bright and warm, and set the food down on the desk. For a moment, he eyed you, then took a seat next to you on your bed.

His gaze traced over you with intense scrutiny. “You okay?”

Turning your attention to him, your eyes met his. Your heart squeezed painfully as his countenance softened with affection. It caught you off-guard -- the vision had come far too quickly for you to catch. That was the way it was with Tony: always faster than the speed of light with the impact of a breathtaking kiss.

“Tony, you’re the smartest person I know,” you began, watching as his grin grew pert with delight. 

“Well I --”

You held up a hand to silence him and Tony shut his mouth, resuming his entertained smile.

“That must mean you know the extent of my powers.”

Tony seemed to consider the idea for a moment, as though processing the statement slowly. His eyebrow flickered. “Sure.”

You scoffed with amusement running across your features. It was working. “So you know.”

“I know.”

“You know that I know.”

“I know that you know that I know.”

“Tony.”

“Yes, dear.”

Tony pressed his lips together to hide his budding laughter as you narrowed your eyes at him mirthfully. 

“Well, since you know that I know that you know --”

It was a flicker of a vision, but you’d seen it coming -- too fast for you to process before it happened.

A dreamy, searing rom-com kiss that sealed the deal. 

He knew that you knew that he knew. And that was okay.

As a member of the team, it was hard to keep things under wraps, given Tony wasn’t the most discreet person. A dozen beautifully-bloomed, crimson roses, freshly-squeezed orange juice (without pulp) in the morning, a resolute hand placed gently against the small of your back as he passed behind you -- just a few of Tony’s debonair methods of expressing his love -- all in the same morning that following day. 

You didn’t need to be Tony Stark to understand what had come to fruition.

* * *

Being able to see the future left little room for error and uncertainty.

Everything you saw was correct, unless another decision had been made to skew the future this way or that. 

Even so, everything between you and Tony felt unpredictable -- feral and uncontrollable. 

Tony made a dozen decisions in seconds and left you in the dark, unable to accurately pinpoint the future with him. His future was always hazy -- blurred by fog and blank spaces that filled and unfilled themselves as quickly as he changed his mind. 

He knew how you worked, and while he liked exploiting the vagueness from time to time, the inability to see the future with him made you anxious.

It was the one thing you two fought about the most.

“You know I need to see,” you murmured, voice lethally low.

“Why is it that you can’t trust me?” Tony returned.

“It’s not that I can’t trust you -- I can’t trust the future, Tony,” you replied.

You watched as Tony went back and forth between starting an actual fight or just letting it pass.

 _Fight_. 

“If you can’t trust the future, why are you here? With me?” Tony demanded. “Not trusting the future leaves me very little to work with, Y/N.”

You kept silent, unable to answer. 

You knew what he would say next. Or not. He was going back and forth again.

_Say it._

“You’re not god, Y/N.”

* * *

You weren’t god, but every time you weren’t able to contain a catastrophe before they occurred was a heavy blow that left you gasping for air -- begging for mercy. 

“Y/N, it wasn’t your fault,” Steve assured after a particularly brutal altercation.

“No, Steve, it was. You know it was,” you spat. “I knew it was going to happen.”

“You can’t blame yourself for how --”

“Oh, but I can,” you snarled, standing up and coming nose-to-nose with the captain. “I _saw_ that coming. And I didn’t stop it.”

“You _couldn’t_ stop it, Y/N,” Steve replied calmly, “it’s not that you didn’t.”

“What’s the fucking difference, Rogers?” you snapped. The mission file flew across the room, scattering papers about the table. “People died. _Children._ ” 

“Y/N,” Natasha sighed, “I can’t say I know how you feel, but we did the best we could in the circumstances we were put in.”

“Who else is to blame if the one person that can see the future can’t protect the people?” you demanded. “The universe? Fate? C’mon, Nat, you know better.”

When Tony came in to check on you later, he sat down beside you on the flight deck and looked out at the horizon. 

“That guilt you feel? I think it’s going to kill me,” Tony stated quietly.

You scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“I mean it. You don’t think I stay up at night wondering if I’m doing everything I can to protect the world?” 

“We’re just one and the same, aren’t we, Stark?” you chuckled, bitter. “The fate of the entire world on our shoulders.”

Tony shrugged. “Probably the entire universe, if you think about it.”

You laughed, genuinely, for the first time in a while. “I guess you’re right.”

“Look, Y/N. All we can do is our best. And we are. We deserve to have a little bit of that victory joy every once in a while,” Tony said. “ _You_ deserve a little bit of that joy.”

Staring out at the setting sun, you heaved a sigh. “I don’t deserve to be happy, Tony. Not after what I’ve done.” 

Tony took your hand abruptly and stared into your eyes. There was something fierce in his gaze that you’ve never seen directed at you or the rest of the team. 

“You deserve all of the happiness in the world, Y/N. All of it. You can’t save the world -- neither can I. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve happiness.”

You couldn’t prevent most things, but working on the team with Tony felt as though you could at least do something -- anything. Despite joining with the world on your shoulders, it was easier to burden with six others to help share it.

* * *

So when the only family you’ve ever loved fell apart, you bounced between everyone, having never taken sides with anyone. 

For a while you ran quasi-missions with Steve and Sam -- and Natasha, when she decided to join them again. 

But you hated leaving Tony alone like that, and while he claimed he was fine with Rhodey to keep him company, running with Steve felt like you were doing more harm than good. 

“Y/N, you can go back,” Steve murmured one day. “It’s okay.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”

“Tony.”

“He has Rhodey.”

“He needs _you_. And you know that.”

You did. You could feel it in the visions. Every time he put down the phone or stopped mid-sentence to FRIDAY. 

Slowly, you stopped bouncing between everyone. You spent more time rubbing circles into Tony’s back as he lost sleep over Peter Parker and less time rubbing Icy Hot into Nat’s shoulders after assignments. More time listening to Happy and Tony laugh over the voice mails that Peter sent, and more time watching Tony evolve into something of a parent to little Peter.

Occasionally you’d receive a text from Natasha or a call from Clint, and that was fine. It wasn’t enough, but it was fine. 

Everything was fine, until half of the world disappeared and you lost Tony Stark for the better part of a month.

* * *

“Sugar,” Tony murmured, breath scorching the shell of your ear.

You laughed a white-hot laugh, the one Tony loved to hear but never heard enough. A tall, crisp drink of water on an endlessly balmy day. 

Taking the sugar caddy into your hands, you glanced into Tony’s eyes briefly before tearing open a packet and pouring it into your coffee.

As the metal spoon clinked quietly against the smooth ceramic walls of your mug, Tony ran a gentle hand across your back and hooked his fingers around your waist.

_Steve._

You looked at Tony with round eyes, a wild, panicked mania in your stare. 

“Steve.”

* * *

Your mind had become unoccupied for the first time after you stopped running assignments with Steve. Instead of doing you any favors like allowing any amount of serenity to return to your body, the stillness only amplified the intensity of the visions.

Visions came to you deep in the night and twisted your insides awake. You soon discovered that visions that left you shouting into the dark were, in actuality, acts of mercy.

Waking up meant the visions stopped and when the visions stopped, Tony was right there with you, rubbing languid circles into your back as he whispered sleep-smeared and honeyed words into your skin. 

“You’re okay, it’s okay,” he murmured.

His voice was hoarse with sleep, words muffled against your shoulder. Machine-roughened hands glided over your skin -- calluses juxtaposed with solace. 

“It’s not your fault, sugar. You’re not god.”

Tony “You’re Okay, It’s Okay” Stark was a saint and never brought up the visions at the breakfast table unless you wanted to.

Other times, visions crept into your dreams and blurred the lines, leaving behind Kafkaesque phantoms that haunted you until they actually came true, or dissipated without a trace.

There was no salvation for dreams that came to fruition except for in those who found that these were, in fact, simply nightmares. 

After you and Tony agreed to join the team again in their so-aptly called “Time Heist,” things had been chaotically idyllic.

There were no visions, no nightmares. 

Just Chinese take out and lying on important papers to discuss the Time Heist, and sitting next to Natasha so you could bump her arm when she was writing to make her letter A’s look like tadpoles. Stepping on Rhodey’s foot when he had frown lines so heavy you swore you could run a river through them, and staring at Bruce meditating and wondering silently if you’d ever reach that level of acceptance for yourself.

Unfortunately for them, time wasn’t waiting for them to gather a perfect plan.

When Natasha and Clint approached the Soul Stone’s keeper, you saw Natasha fall to her death as you crept around the corner with Tony and Scott in 2012.

You froze in the hall as you searched the universe for another way -- pleaded with your own life for another way. Eyes manic as they flew about the hallway as you begged for another possibility.

 _Let me go_. 

“No,” you whimpered.

“Sugar,” Tony whispered, voice hissing from the other end of the hallway. “Babe!”

You swept your eyelashes over at him to see what was happening and caught his eye. 

_It’s okay._

* * *

When you sat up from piles of rubble, covered in cuts and crusted blood to watch Stephen Strange open what seemed like countless portals across the sky, you saw Earth’s greatest defenders step out of them to stand with Steve. 

You hoped that this was just another false dream that wouldn’t come to fruition as Tony helped you up from your spot. You prayed silently to the universe -- all of the infinite universes -- as you tapped your finger against Tony’s faceplate.

The abraded faceplate flipped open from its place to reveal Tony’s equally bloodied, roughed up face. He gave you a charming, boyish grin -- the one that made your heart squeeze and flutter.

“Sugar,” you crooned, watching as Tony snorted.

Leaning in momentarily, you pressed your lips against his and he smiled wider against your lips, a beacon of light amongst all of the destruction around you. 

You begged the universes to keep him here with you, for time to stop for just one fucking second while you relished in this moment with him.

_Don’t take this from me. You don’t get to take this from me. You don’t get to do this do me._

You saw a false snap behind your eyelids. 

_Dust._

When you pulled away from Tony, he chuckled and guided you towards Steve with his hand against the small of your back.

You weren’t going to let Tony “The Love of Your Fucking Life” Stark die.

* * *

You began to charge at Thanos with pure fury blazing in your eyes. 

As the mad Titan grinned in anticipation as you grew closer to him, you ran through a portal and nearly crashed into Strange.

He gripped your shoulders and stared into your eyes fiercely.

“You can’t.”

“Why not?!” you snarled, twisting yourself out of his hold.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “You know why.”

Your eyes stung with indignation and you grit your teeth.

“I’m not going to let him --”

Strange opened up a portal beside you as chitauri sprinted towards you, then shook his head. The two of you fought off Thanos’ army as they swarmed you. You watched as T’Challa sprinted away with the gauntlet.

“You _must_ , Y/N,” Strange grunted, throwing you a pointed look. “You know this.”

“There’s got to be another way, Strange,” you shouted, “there has to be a different end!”

“There isn’t. You know this. This is one that’s not unclear.”

You didn’t know how he knew this, but he was right. This was, perhaps, the only vision you’ve had of Tony “I’m Going to Save the Universe” Stark that wasn’t hazy.

You gazed over at Strange as he stared at you. 

“ _Stephen_ , I’m…” you breathed. “I’m begging you.”

* * *

And when you glanced at Strange and stared into bloodshot eyes as Carol was thrown aside from the blast of the Power Stone, there were no words.

There were no words to describe the way your heart fissured and split into as many pieces as there were universes. 

There were no words to describe the moment Strange held up a single quivering finger at Tony.

There were absolutely no words to describe the way Tony’s eyes shifted from Stephen to look at you.

You wanted your perfect rom-com ending, tied up with a neat little one-liner and the most exquisite, searing kiss the world could ever fathom.

You couldn’t breathe as Tony stole the stones from Thanos and placed them on his gauntlet.

_A cheap trick._

_A cheesy one-liner._

Burnt skin and sulfurous hair wafted around Tony as you sprinted towards him with Thanos’ army fading into the sky. 

_Dust._

Rhodey. 

Peter. _Poor Peter_.

You knelt down beside him and searched for his eyes as they grew listless. Mustering the last of his strength, Tony focused his gaze on you and grinned, just as he did the first time he met you.

Laying your hands on his thighs, you returned his smile as he dragged his hand on top of yours.

“Sugar,” you began, smile threatening to shatter as you spoke.

A spark of light flickered in Tony’s eyes when you called out to him, then dissipated as quickly as it came. The brightest flame you’d ever encountered was fizzling away -- not a single blaze in Muspelheim could compare to Tony.

He was leaving, and you needed to help him go.

“You’re okay,” you crooned.

The only salvation the universe offered were nightmares that never came to fruition.

 _“It’s okay_.”

This was no nightmare.

And you weren’t God.


End file.
